


To have and to hold

by itainthardtrying



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: But not the kind you're thinking about, F/F, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nicky and Joe being adorable and messing around a lot, Weddings, surprise wedding, that's the whole fic, this is me taking revenge on manzoni
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itainthardtrying/pseuds/itainthardtrying
Summary: It’s probably because of the after sex haze that Nicky’s words slip out of his mouth before he can think about it.“I want to marry you.”Joe stops his whatever he was saying about the weather. “What?”Nicolò opens his eyes. “Uh…” He had been thinking about it for a few days already, and apparently his brain was done holding it back from Joe. “I want to marry you, Yusuf."(Or: How Nicky poses as a priest to infiltrate the Council of Trento and ends up getting married. Again.)
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia/Quynh | Noriko, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 20
Kudos: 171





	To have and to hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yu_gin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yu_gin/gifts).



> Happy birthday yu_gin! (Sorry for the three weeks delay I guess? ^^’)

It all starts in Italy during a long, hot summer.

Nicolò’s listening to Padre Antonio, who’s in charge of singing Vespers, and trying his best not to fall asleep in his backbench. The council ran later than usual today, late into the night, and even stern and zealous Abbot Francesco looks about ready to collapse. They’re gathered in the main aisle of the cathedral, but despite the massive stone walls and the high ceiling the air is stifling and hot, saturated by the smoke coming from the candles and the incense. Nonetheless, Padre Antonio has been singing for over forty minutes, his tedious voice repeating prayers Nicky has heard over and over again in the last months. _God grant me patience_ , he thinks. _Why does this man have to sing so slow?_

The prayer finishes at last, Nicolò sings the last lines in chorus with the whole congregation, and _finally_ he’s done for the day. He puts away his book of psalms, pulls up his cowl and fights his way to the back of the aisle, politely dodging Padre Antonio and a country parish who want to discuss the speech he made today, makes for the church’s door and he’s free, at last. Even if it’s night the air is warmer than inside the cathedral, but he can’t bring himself to care. Right now he just needs to rest and to be with Joe, not necessarily in that order – so he starts walking towards home.

 _Home_ right now is a townhouse in the north side of the city, serving as princess Anna di Lorena’s residence over the summer.

“But she’s not going to be here this year, apparently,” Joe told him when he received the letter, over a year ago. “She’s been shipped to Orange to get married. How sad. But here she says I can use the house however I want, if I can make do with my own servants. How generous of her, don’t you think, Nicky? She always had a soft spot for me. My good, _beautiful_ friend- ow!” He laughed as Nicky kicked him in the shins.

When he arrives at the townhouse he’s sweaty and hot, his woollen cassock weighing him down, making it nearly unbearable to climb the stairs which lead to the main bedroom. As soon as he reaches the top steps, he sits down heavily, resting his head in his hands. He’s tired, and not just from the heat.

He’s been sitting there for a while, trying to catch his breath, when he hears the bedroom door open, and soft footsteps coming towards him. A moment later two strong arms circle his shoulders, holding him tightly.

“I thought I heard you come back,” says Joe, his beard tickling Nicky’s ear.

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Long day at the council?”

Nicky groans, sinking his head into his hands even more. “ _Yes._ I’ve just about had it with the lot of them, with their arrogance and selfishness, their saint-like behaviour when everyone knows they are nothing but a bunch of fucking hypocrites who –”

Joe interrupts him with a laugh. “All right habibi, I get it.”

“And Padre Antonio sings so fucking _slowly_ ,” Nicky adds, just for the sake of complaining. “I thought that Vespers would never end.”

“And I’ve heard this before, as well,” he can feel Joe smirking against his cheek. “Just a regular day at work, huh?”

Nicolò sighs. “I’ve been sitting in this damned council for almost a year, Yusuf,” he says. “And I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“My love,” Joe rest his hand on the top of his head, and Nicky sighs again. His body started relaxing when Yusuf first touched him: now he melts into his hold, letting himself go inside the circle of his lover’s arms, safe. “We don’t have to wait until the end of this damned thing. Just say the word and we’ll go away. We won’t leave a trace, I’ll make sure of that.”

“I… I don’t know. I feel like we have to know as much as we can about this, but I don’t know if it’s enough. This is bigger than anything we’ve ever seen so far, maybe even bigger than us. I don’t want to put you all in trouble just because I feel like giving up.”

“Nobody thinks you’re giving up Nicolò,” says Joe, kissing him again. “We could ask Andy and Quynh. See what they think, too.” Nicky just nods.

“You are too tired love. We can talk in the morning. And in the meantime,” Nicky feels Joe’s arms tightening a bit around him. “I think I can provide a distraction.”

And Nicky just isn’t able to ignore _that_ , hasn’t been able to ignore it for centuries now. He turns around with a comeback ready on his tongue. “Well, I think you –” whatever he wanted to say gets lost, because he turns around to face Joe and finds him completely naked.

Joe just smirks and raises an eyebrow. “What? It’s hot.”

Nicky laughs. He rises and takes Joe’s hand. “Yeah it is. Let’s go inside, come on.”

Nicky doesn’t talk again that night, not until much later, when they’re laying together on their bed, the streets of the city still and quiet in the dark and their arms around each other.

“It’s weird right? Summers shouldn’t be this hot up north,” Joe’s saying.

Usually Joe is the one who talks the most after. He always says he does it because he knows Nicky likes to hear the sound of his voice while falling asleep, but they both know it’s really because Nicky’s out of it and useless for at least twenty minutes whenever they have sex. And it’s probably because of the after sex haze that Nicky’s words slip out of his mouth before he can think about it.

“I want to marry you.”

Joe stops his whatever he was saying about the weather. “What?”

Nicolò opens his eyes. “Uh…” He had been thinking about it for a few days already, and apparently his brain was done holding it back from Joe. “I want to marry you, Yusuf."

Joe’s stunned silence lasts a moment more, and then he sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “I knew that being inside a church all day every day would be bad for you. All that incense must be clouding your brain. We _are_ married already Nicolò, three times if I remember correctly.”

“You idiot,” says Nicky, his elbow aiming for Joe’s ribs, but the other one is dodging him already. He’s got to make up some new moves soon. He doesn’t want his husband to become rusty.

“Why are you so violent Nicolò?”

“Because you won’t take me seriously, that’s why,” Nicky scoffs, turning his back on Joe and curling up on his side of the bed.

Joe follows him, draping himself across his back, his body hot, firm and as familiar to Nicky as his own. “Well. I could go for the fourth time, love. Our honeymoons tend to be rather enjoyable.” Nicky chuckles as Joe drops a kiss on his shoulder blade. “But why now?”

“I just… ” Nicky’s voice drifts off and his gaze falls on the window, the only one present in their bedroom.

The night outside is dark, devoid of stars thanks to the hot and humid air weighing on the sky. But the city is still visible: palaces and houses where other people just like them are sleeping and holding each other, and overlooking everything the tower bell of the cathedral, where Nicky’s eyes fall. He doesn’t quite know how to ask for what he wants, but after all their years together, he hopes Joe can understand it anyway.

Joe follows his gaze and sighs quietly. “You want to get married in a Christian church?”

“Yes.”

The other man is silent, but tightens his hold on Nicky’s shoulders. “I thought your religion was pretty strict about man and wife,” he says after a while.

“It is.” Nicky turns around in his arms and brings their foreheads together. “But you know how I feel about it. Why would God give me someone like you and expect me not to love you with all of my heart? _Someone_ , be it your god or mine, wanted us to meet and after all these years –” He puts his hand on Joe’s cheek, his thumb caressing his cheekbone lightly. “I can’t imagine where I’d be without you, habibi. Sometimes I feel like my heart and my very soul reside within your body.”

Joe catches his hand, brings it to his lips. “And you say I am the romantic one.”

Nicky doesn’t answer. Instead he tugs Joe closer and kisses him.

“I don’t need an answer right now, you know” Nicky pants as Joe throws a leg over his hips and straddles him, and even if he’s dead tired from the long day at the council and sex, that gesture alone makes his body _sing_. “I just… I just wanted to say it out loud, I guess.”

“I get it Nicky.” They smile at each other. Joe bends down as if he wants to kiss him, but stops just out of reach. “Actually…”

“What is it?”

Joe smirks again and touches their foreheads together. “I thought in your religion the bride should be a virgin.”

Nicky snorts. “Then we’re lucky there’s no bride in this marriage,” he says, and reaches up for Joe’s lips.

He brings it up again the next morning, while putting on his cassock and preparing himself for another interminable day in council.

“Amore?” he calls at the mountain of blankets on their bed.

“Hm?”

Nicky sits on the bed and looks at the blankets rising and falling with Joe’s breathing. “You know… I don’t want you to do it just for me. I was rash yesterday and I know your faith is also important –“

Joe’s hand emerges from the blankets and grips his arm. “Nicolò.” Joe’s head surfaces well, his face sleepy but his eyes kind. “I want to do this, you hear me?”

“Thank you.”

“My only question is, _how_ illegal is it, exactly?”

Nicky smiles. “See, that’s the point. I heard about this thing in last week’s council…”

When it all comes to an end they are still in Italy, but the summer is long gone.

They need two witnesses, so they send a letter to Modena, where Andy and Quynh are posing as dames of the court by day, and sneaking through the secret hallways to listen to the private meetings of the Estense family by night. They arrive in October, right when the air turns from warm to damp and foggy, and the streets of the city are littered by red and yellow leaves.

“This is fun,” says Quynh, excited. Andy doesn’t say anything, but lets the scowl on her face speak for her.

They’re all crowded in the main bedroom, the only one where the fireplace is still burning. The few belongings Nicky and Joe bother to carry around with them are packed already, and without the lived-in feeling it had until a few days ago, Anna di Lorena’s townhouse is looking very cold and very empty.

Quynh doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, though. She smiles as she helps Nicky put the cassock on over his everyday clothes, while Joe watches them, sitting on the bed.

“It’s the third time right?” she asks while she straightens the back of Nicky’s robe.

“Fourth,” corrects Joe.

“Well, I think it’s dangerous,” says Andy from her corner of the room.

“And _I_ think playing the coy, innocent maiden has gotten to you,” laughs Quynh. “Since when do we need to beg you to do something sacrilegious?”

Andy scoffs. “It’s not like that Quynh, and you know it. Nicolò said it himself,” she nods in Nicky’s direction. “Church isn’t getting any kinder these days, especially with this stupid council still going. Maybe it’s best if we don’t provoke them.”

“Andromache,” says Joe, putting his hand on Andy’s shoulder. “We would never have dragged you two into this if we suspected it might be dangerous. Leaving town will be enough to keep them at bay. They don’t know where Nicolò lives, they don’t even know his full name.”

“And it’s not like we plan to return here soon,” adds Nicky, while Quynh helps him lace up the back of his cassock.

“So this is it, Nicolò? There’s nothing more you can do here?”

Nicky’s stomach drops at hearing the hint of disappointment in her voice, but there is nothing that could convince him to keep doing this. “No, Andromache,” he says, “nothing more. I’m done.” He carefully fixes and tightens the laces of his robe before speaking again. “The council is almost over, and whatever I could learn about their intentions, I did. Words of the decisions they made here will travel all over the world soon, and at least we’ll know in advance how to adjust. I told Yusuf already, but I’ll tell you two as well: this is bigger than us. So no, there’s nothing more I can do here.”

The room is dead silent, and Andy just looks at him for a few seconds, before nodding slowly. She looks tense, and Quynh must think so too, because she goes to Andy and kisses her. “My love. We spent months pretending to fight over some count’s favour while spying on him and his whole family. How dangerous can _this_ be?”

“It’s risky all the same,” says Andy, the crease between her eyebrows softer, but still there.

Quynh sighs and sits down on the bed, between her and Joe. “They said it’s safe and I trust them. Besides,” she adds with a smirk. “I still have to get my revenge over that priest in Fiennes.”

Andy scoffs again, but Joe laughs. “That story again?”

“You try being exorcised five times in a row, Yusuf! It fucking hurt.”

“Well, if it’s payback you want I suppose we could do it.”

“I’m really in the mood for beating up someone,” says Andy gloomily.

“We’re not beating up a priest!” Nicky protests.

“You two are no fun. In _our_ weddings,” Quynh says, leaning her body into Andy’s. “there’s always a bit of a scuffle, and let me tell you, it really sets the mood.“

Andy finally laughs at that, and Quynh kisses her, looking very pleased with herself.

Nicky looks at Joe, and they share a smile. Then he throws a cloak over his cassock. “All right. Let’s go, it’s time.”

Half an hour later they arrive to the cathedral. They must look intimidating to strangers, Nicky thinks, four dark, hooded figures stalking through the city streets late in the night. He guides them to the west side of the church, right by the small door which the priests keep open during the night. He goes in first, checks that the priest in charge of preparing Lauds is not in immediate sight, then he opens the door again, and Quynh, Andy and Joe sneak in behind him, making no more noise than a draft of air.

“Wait by the pews,” says Nicky in a whisper. “I’ll find him and distract him for you.”

He steps into the dim light of the candles, taking care to walk with loud, heavy footsteps. He can hear his three companions following him in the much darker lateral aisles, silent like shadows. Nicky climbs up the few steps which lead to the altar and finally sees the man they were looking for.

“Buonasera Padre Antonio,” he says, and tries not to smile when the priest flinches and abruptly turns around.

“Padre Nicolò,” he gasps, putting a hand over his heart. “Mi hai sorpreso. Cosa ti porta qui a quest’ora? Sei in anticipo per le Lodi.”

He smiles, and Nicky feels bad for him for a moment, but then he remembers every time the man sang Vespers so slowly that they had to stay seated in the backbenches forty minutes longer than usual, or how his voice was so tedious it had them yawning on the second or third line of the prayers. It’s not a reason strong enough to make you hate a man, of course. But maybe, he thinks as he spies the three dark shapes moving behind the priest, it’s just enough to warrant a little revenge.

_Huh. Maybe Quynh was right._

He can’t help but smirk, and the priest frowns at him, confused.

“Padre Nicolò?”

That’s when Joe, Andy and Quynh jump on him.

Unsurprisingly Quynh is a little bit too enthusiastic, and clocks the poor priest on the head, knocking him out.

“My bad!” she says, beaming.

Nicky sighs, but takes advantage of the extra time to walk up to his backbench and retrieve the book of psalms he used during the council. He likes the thing, and after all the hours he wasted listening to all those priests trying to outdo each other in holiness and devotion he might as well take it as a compensation. Or a wedding present.

When he returns to the altar Padre Antonio is awake again, bound to a chair by a very sturdy rope, gagged and looking very busy being threatened by Andy.

“Well hello father, rise and shine,” she is saying, leaning with an elbow on the back of his chair. “We don’t need you to do anything but stay quiet and watch, so do exactly that and we shouldn’t have problems.” She pats the priest’s shoulder a few times.

“Andromache no death threats at my wedding please,” says Joe, as Nicky walks up to him, in front of the altar.

“You just jumped him five minutes ago!” protests Andy.

“Yes shut up Andromache, you’re ruining the mood,” says Quynh.

Andy looks at the priest and gestures to her girlfriend. “Did you hear what she just said to me?”

Padre Antonio gives her an indignant scowl. “Mmmph!”

Andy sighs. “Yeah, sounds about right. Come on you two, get it over with before Padre here starts to make too much noise!”

Nicky looks at Joe: he’s smiling at him and holding out his hands. He takes them.

He still remembers their first wedding, they both do. A lot of their experiences has faded by now, memories dulled by the passing of time, but that day has always been vivid in Nicky’s mind, the memories as sharp as if he’d just lived trough them.

They’d been wandering the desert for weeks, fleeing from the massacre of the crusade which they both had been too blind to see until they stopped killing each other long enough to realize what their people were doing. They fled Jerusalem holding hands to guide each other in the dark, grudgingly at first, but for some reason unable to let go even when they crossed the walls of the city. The desert didn’t treat them kindly, and they both lost count of the times one or the other perished from hunger or thirst. Finally, after so many days spent wandering without direction, they came upon the banks of a river. They drank and feasted on the roots and plants they could find, bathed in the shallow water and rested naked in the sun to dry themselves, and that night Nicky laid out a gentle hand in the space between them, only to find Joe already reaching for him. They made love under the stars, and after that held tight to each other.

“I think it happened to me for a reason,” said Nicky in the mixed language they shared during their days in the desert. “I was meant to find you.”

“And I, you,” answered Joe.

“We can’t let go of each other.” Nicky asked, propping himself up on one elbow to look at him. “Promise me.”

“So be it,” said Yusuf, and his words sounded like more than a simple promise.

Nicky needs no words now to know that Joe is thinking about that day: he can see the same look from all those years ago reflected in his eyes.

“Father,” he says, looking straight at Joe. “This is my husband.”

“Father, this is my husband,” Joe repeats, and just like that, it’s done.

They exchange a smile as Quynh claps her hands and Andy sighs.

“Great. Now kiss already, so we can end this farce and leave.”

Nicky laughs. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He cups Joe’s jaw in his hand and, like they’ve done countless times since meeting each other all those years ago, he kisses him.

When they separate Nicky looks at their friends, their witnesses. Andy is almost-but-not-quite smiling, Quynh is beaming, and Padre Antonio… well, Padre Antonio is struggling like a madman, trying to free himself from his bindings.

Nicky walks to him. “Sorry Padre,” he says, somewhat apologetically. “I hope you’ll be a little more progressive in council from now on, since you have officiated such an unconventional ceremony.”

He hears Joe laughing, but his eyes remain on the priest, a man who smiled at Nicky mere minutes before, who he considered an acquaintance, if not a friend for the past year. Now Padre Antonio is scowling at him, and from what Nicky can understand of the muffled words he’s trying to say behind his gag he’s… well, disgusted to say the least. Nicky winces against his will, when Quynh comes near him and puts a hand on the priest’s shoulder.

“Excuse me,” she says, leaning towards the man. “Do you have something to say? They did everything right and by the same rules you people set, didn’t they?” She sounds as cheerful as always, but her eyes are glacial.

Padre Antonio stills, swallows visibly and after a pause he nods his head lightly.

“Just as I thought,” Quynh says, patting the man’s shoulder. “Thank you Padre!”

“Yeah, thank you Padre, it was a beautiful ceremony!” Joe chimes in, putting his arm around Nicky’s waist.

Andy barks out a laugh. “And by all means, keep this wedding reform thing going. I don’t think a lot of people will take it as an invitation to attack a priest.” She takes Quynh by the hand. “Even if it would make for an unforgettable wedding ceremony.”

“I’ll hold you to it, love,” Quynh laughs. “And have a good night!” she calls to the priest, as the four of them run away giggling like a bunch of children.

Nicky doesn’t talk again that night, not until much later when they’re finally heading out of town. After fleeing from the church they had gone straight to Anna di Lorena’s house where Nicky finally ditched the cassock for good. Then they attached the horses they “borrowed” from the cathedral’s stables to the wagon loaded with their belongings, and took the road. He and Joe are sitting in the front, while Quynh and Andy are curled together and asleep in the back.

The road is in a sorry state, the wagon jumps and jerks, all the stuff they’ve brought with them is moving around and making a godawful noise, the night is cold and his cloak damp from the fog, but Nicky, for the first time in months, feels happy. He sighs and puts his head on Joe’s shoulder.

His now four-times-husband looks down at him. “Tired?”

“Yes.”

The wheels of the wagon hit a muddy pit in the road, and Joe puts a hand on Nicky’s head so it doesn’t get jostled from his shoulder. “Sleep then. I’ll take the first turn with the horses.”

Nicky looks up to him and smiles. “And what do you want in return?”

His now four-times-husband looks down at him and smiles. “Nicolò, I love you when you do it, but you’ve got to stop asking me to marry you every fucking time, and let _me_ do it for once.” He shakes his head. “You’re making me look like a bad husband.”

Nicky laughs, settles again his head on Joe’s shoulder and closes his eyes.

“All right, love. Whatever you say.”

**Author's Note:**

> It was yu_gin’s birthday three weeks ago and I wanted to get this ready for that day, but I am not and will never be good at deadlines and this was no exception. So, a very late happy birthday my friend, I hope you enjoy me desecrating the author which rendered our second year of high school living hell.  
> In case you were wondering if surprise weddings were legit, apparently they were and people knew about it after the 1600s. The betrothed is a book which you get to study if you’re an high schooler in Italy and it has funny bits, like the (spoiler, attempted) surprise wedding. 
> 
> Translation of the italian bits:  
> “Good evening, Padre Antonio”  
> “Padre Nicolò, you surpised me. What brings you here at this hour? You're early for Lauds.”
> 
> TL;DR: I just wanted to create a Renzo-e-Lucia type of situation for Nicky and Joe, with the surprise wedding because they would totally do that imo, but I ended up writing 4k words about immortal gays. Oh well.


End file.
